Two Birds of a Feather Klance Brace Yourself AU
Part 5
Read on AO3 here
Summary: Once Lance is injured, his aerial acrobatics classes are left for the taking. With his impulsive nature, Keith offers to cover them. In the meantime, Lance needs comforting and Keith is really good at making chicken noodle soup.
Two.
Two months of practice-
Two nights alone, one night in Lance’s class a week. Keith has gotten familiar with the flow of the silk. Familiar with the thrum of his blood coursing through his body from head to toe, sometimes settling around his brain as he hovers upside down with…
Two measly strands holding him up. Two gliding pieces of fabric that he clings to with all his energy to keep from being torn into…
Two. Two energies feeding off of the other. The heat flows from source to sink, hot to cold, Keith to Lance. Keith’s fiery intention warm’s Lance’s cool grace.
Too often Lance finds himself inches from the ground, panting with a once forgotten adrenaline racing and bouncing off his aching muscles. Keith is reminding him how it feels to be alive.
Too much life. Too much adrenaline. Too much.
Too much pain… “aaaAAAHH make it stOP!” Lance cradles his ankle, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. His heart pounds in his ears in sync with the pounding in his foot. He thought he had some space. The ground should’ve been at least 2 feet away but it kept rushing up to meet him.
Too bad it couldn’t have been Keith greeting him with open arms…
“Lance, are you okay?!” Keith quickly untangles himself from his silk, tripping over his own feet in a rush to get to him. In a single sweep, Keith twists and tosses the rotten silk aside that had hurtled Lance toward Earth with total disregard.
He plops down beside Lance with a resounding thud, ignoring the small tremor that races through his knee.
“Lance, man, are you okay?” Wait, no, obviously he’s not okay… “Can you stand?”
Lance’s eyes are squeezed tightly shut, his smile lines replaced by a deep furrow in his brow. Lance opens his mouth and manages a small squeak before clacking it shut with a fresh wave of pain. With a sniffle, Lance shakes his head and tightens his grip on his ankle.
“Aahh- uuhhh, hang on, I’ll be right back.” Keith sits back on his heels and flattens his palms against the wood floor to heave himself up. Just as he’s about to lift off, his hand is suddenly encompassed by a cool puddle. His eyes widen a fraction, following the puddle upstream to watery eyes begging him to stay. The ice is gone, replaced by an ocean holding a castaway begged to be pulled back to shore.
“Please don’t leave.” Lance just barely manages to hiccup.
Keith plunks back down immediately, overlaying his other hand on top of Lance’s. “Of course, of course-” He pauses a moment between words, taking note of the energy equilibrium their hands are fighting to reach. “-you should probably take the ankle brace off, seeing as it’s not doing you much good.” A tiny chuckle from Lance. That’s a good sign.
Lance takes a moment to swipe the raindrop off of his cheek before carefully undoing the velcro trapping his throbbing foot. With a quiet rip, Lance manages to undo the brace and hold it against his melting heart as Keith leans in closer to look at his foot.
Trying to distract himself from the Keith-labeled heat spreading through his chest, Lance takes a moment to look around the studio. The golden hour sun disappears between the clouds, only catching the two swinging silks momentarily. His mint green one flaps lazily against the brilliant red silk, the breeze occasionally causing the ends to entangle. One plus one becoming…
“-too bad. I’m thinking some ice and bed rest should do you good.” Keith flashes a hopeful smile at Lance, who quickly misses the heat from Keith’s hand. “But maybe you should get it checked out just to be sure?”
Their eyes lock, Lance weighing his options and Keith looking for his decision. The sun pushes its way through an opening in the clouds and a bird sings its rejoices in the warm glow. The silks settle back to a gentle sway as the breeze coming through the tall window eases. Silence.
“Can you drive me?”
Keith can’t stop looking at his phone. The importance of finishing his cat penthouse pales in comparison to the importance of hearing the news about Lance. Keith had wanted to stay with Lance for his appointment, but he had insisted that Keith go home. After all, he had Hunk who was coming directly after work to pick him up. Even then, Keith still stuck around until Hunk showed up to receive his signature ‘hi honey I’m home’ hug. Seriously, Hunk’s arms are the closest thing to home Keith’s ever known.
The golden glow of the afternoon begins to fade into the pinks and purples of a sunset. It’s been nearly an hour since Lance had gone to the clinic and Keith was beginning to worry.
Keith’s eyes drifted around his tiny apartment, following the movement of his kitten Phoenix as she chased her own shadow. Just as Phoenix had it cornered, the phone buzzes and Keith launches himself across the floor. With nimble fingers, he unlocks his phone and finds Lance in his favorite contacts list.
I’m out for two weeks.
Keith’s stomach drops. He knew this was coming, he had just held out against hope that there would be better news.
Man…that sucks.
Dot dot dot…nothing. Dot dot dot…nothing. Did I say something? Maybe I should’ve apologized??
Yup. Especially since I’ll have to cancel my classes :’(
Phoenix hurtles herself at Keith’s chest, latching onto his heather grey hoodie to immediately settle in. Keith absently scratches her behind the ears, the vibrations of her purring easing his tense muscles. He glances at the cat penthouse, noting the already dried paint, and decided it could wait.
Are you sure about that?
Dot dot dot…nothing. Dot dot dot…nothing. Maybe I overstepped…it’s his class after all, not mine. I don’t want to, like, steal his thing?!
What?
Phoenix cracks her eye open, curious to see the source of all the shaking. Just behind her head, Keith’s fingers race nimbly across the glowing screen. Typing typing spacebar backspace backspace backspace…typing, backspace, typing, BACKSPACE…
What if I covered your classes?
Keith chucks the phone across the room like it burned him. What did I do what did I do what did I do…
I mean, yeah, sure, I helped him out with one or two of his classes. And sure, I may have done the butterfly drop as an example for his advanced class. And maybe I do put in twenty hours of practice every week but it’s not even like he knOWS that, right?!
The phone buzzes and Keith jumps higher than Phoenix being startled from her nap.
Keith wtf
I messed up so bad I never should’ve-
Why didn’t I think of that?! You’re brilliant!
…
Keith is dead. Deceased. Brilliant?! Me?!?! WAIT ME COVERING-
Wait, dude, actually???
Sure, why not?! You’re amazing on the silks, almost better than me ngl.. ;)
Wink?? Abort. Abort.
You won’t regret it, Lance. ;)
<3
Is this what it feels like to spontaneously combust? Everything is on fire at once, his heart thundering and his breath whistling in his chest. Suddenly the hoodie is too much and Keith practically tears the zipper off in his flurry. Why is it so hot? Why is Lance so hot?
Keith launches himself off the floor and begins frantically pacing. HEART heart heart he sent me a heart, a heart, to ME.
Keith wears halfway through the carpet before he finally decides to call Hunk.
“…two weeks! That’s like, six classes, man! And two of them are advanced! I only just caught up to that class last week!”
“And killed it! I popped in just after my nutrition class and saw you on the front silk beside Lance. To be honest I’m surprised you weren’t teaching with him sooner.”
“Huuuuuuunnnnnkkkkk…”
“What?! You guys are a really good duo. Lance always seems to light up a bit more around you. Should’ve seen him when you left the hospital.” A soft chuckle. Silence.
“…huh?” Keith struggles to hear Hunk properly over the pounding against his ribcage.
“Yeah, he just had the little quirk-“
“In the left corner of his mouth to try to be positive for his friends when it’s really the right corner that quirks when he’s actually happy?”
“So THAT’S why he does it on two different sides? The more ya know! I was just gonna say he wasn’t beaming like he was when you were still here… Maybe you should visit him.”
Keith stops pacing dead in his tracks. “Like, at his apartment? You mean, like, not the gym?” Keith has made it a habit to not visit people at home. Too much personal life. There’s too much to love and have to part with.
“Umm, yeah, he’s not exactly going to the gym on his foot…here, lemme give you the address.” Shuffling papers, the click of a pen. Keith’s leg bouncing a mile a minute at even the prospect of visiting Lance at his apartment!
Keith nervously shuffles off the edge of the welcome mat. It’s been two seconds and he’s already disgraced the house by stepping on a sacred…floor…mat…meant for feet… If he wasn’t holding a bowl of hot chicken noodle soup he’d slap himself in the face.
The gentle tinkle of the bell fades into the rest of the house. He imagines the chimes being absorbed by mountains of pillows piled onto plush couches, the mint green of the gym following Lance home and settling into the walls. After all, the color suits him.
There’s a soft clicking from the other side of the door and Keith is sent into a rapid spiral. If I run now maybe he’ll think it’s just a prank, right? But I can’t run with the soup, now can I…Just leave it on the mat? Maybe I have a family emergency! Yeah, my cousin’s, aunt’s, sister’s…fish…died? Uuuugh, why can’t it be two o’clock already so I can leave just like I said???
A few moments of silence pass. Just as Keith’s about to leave the bowl and ditch, he hears the jingle of a chain and a muted chuckle. The door begins to swing open and Keith’s trapped.
“Digby, knock it off! Be nice to our guest!” The door continues swinging open to reveal Lance with one crutch pinched under his arm, the other crutch on the ground as he struggles to fight the wriggling puppy. “Sorry Keith, he gets excited around fresh blood.”
NOPE.
Lance seems to read the sudden change in the air and backpedals. “Oh, don’t worry, this fluff ball won’t do anything to you. I just say fresh blood just to tease Digby for how adorable he is, isn’t that right pumpkin?” He manages to lift the tiny cloud in one hand with his gentle cooing and hold him against his chest. Digby noticeably calms down but his tiny cotton bud of a tail keeps vibrating with raw energy.
“Uh- hey. I brought soup.” Keith nods at the hot bowl in his hands, concentrating on Digby as to avoid Lance’s gaze. “Home-made.”
Lance visibly straightens at the thought of home-made food. There’s nothing like chicken soup for the soul, as his mother says. “Oh, well then by all means, please come in!” Lance waddles to the side, simultaneously fighting with the tiny cloud and his single crutch.
Keith shifts the bowl under one arm and squats in the doorframe to retrieve the other crutch. Just as he’s about to return it to Lance, Digby leaps out of Lance’s arms and races to the other end of the crutch. With a tiny growl, he opens his jaw as wide as possible and…nibbles the end. At his puppy size, Digby is barely capable of biting a pinky finger. Keith wiggles the crutch a bit, watching Digby hop frantically back and forth to keep up with it.
Laughter. Tinkling, refreshing laughter. It reverberates in the tiny doorway and Keith feels it pass right through his chest to his heart.
“Digby loves those crutches, lemme tell you. One morning I woke up to my crutches on the other side of my bedroom. I still don’t know how he did it.” Lance gives Digby an affectionate little scratch behind his tiny marshmallows also known as ears and eases the door shut.
With a final little tug and an adorable little huff from Digby, Keith manages to return the crutch to Lance who takes it with a grateful smile. Though he’s capable of managing with one crutch, it’s far easier to navigate around the little ball of energy with two.
“There’s not much to see, I know, but it’s cozy. You can just set the delicious home-made soup on the counter over there.” Lance lifts the edge of his crutch to point at the tiny oak island at the opposite corner of the room.
The very disorienting room. The walls are close together- a single navy couch almost spans the whole width against the back window. Surprisingly, there’s only two pillows on it. I guess Lance’s plush personality doesn’t need much cushioning after all…
The room is long and deceptively tall so that the space feels big. On the back left wall beside the couch is a kitchenette with white cabinets that match the tiny island separating the living area from the kitchen.
The two side walls were painted an empty baby blue. The back wall is entirely a latticed window allowing natural afternoon sunlight to flood the room. Behind Keith is- a silver wall?
As Keith walks further into the apartment from the door’s alcove, he catches a shape moving with his against the silver. “Is that a wall mirror?” Keith stops in his tracks, allowing Lance to hobble up beside him.
“So what if it is?” Lance’s tone is almost teasing, challenging him to judge his design choices. Keith’s shutting down. Abort, abort, different topic…
“Uuuuhhh…bed. I mean, uh, where’s your bed?” Smooth recovery Keith.
Silence. Worried he upset Lance with his abrupt question, he turns around to see Lance pointing up. Keith follows his finger to notice the exposed oak rafting high above their heads and a ladder leaned against a tall tan platform.
“You have a loft bed?!” Compared to the relative emptiness of the rest of the apartment, the loft seems cluttered with life.
Lance chuckles. “Of course, any excuse to be in the air. Why else would I get a top floor apartment? These ceilings are to die for, and I can even hang my silk up on the beams.”
Keith lets out a huff, overwhelmed and annoyed and impressed all at once. Of course Lance would have a beautiful apartment to match his beautiful everything.
“Why don’t you bring the soup over here so we can finally have lunch. I’m staaaarrrving.” Lance’s crutches click as he swings himself across the honey-colored floor and through the patch of sunlight. Though Lance is only stuck with crutches for a week, Lance’s mannerisms suggest he’s never known anything else.
Keith manages to close his jaw- does Lance watch himself on the silks with that mirror???- and follow after him with Digby yipping at his heels.
The soup sloshes a bit in the glass bowl, the plastic wrap just barely keeping the mess in. Keith leans the crutches against the counter as Lance hops around the cabinets to grab two bowls and spoons. Almost as an after thought, he grabs a tiny treat out of a jar and tosses it down to Digby who nabs it out of thin air.
Lance eagerly rips the plastic off the bowl and immediately begins spooning the steaming soup into his bowl. Once it’s nearly full to the rim, he drags Keith’s bowl across the table to the sound of his dying protests and fills it up just as much.
With an eager gleam in his eyes, Lance rubs his hands together and look ravenously at the soup. “I can’t wait to have you in my belly.” That earns an embarrassed chuckle from Keith and Lance’s smile widens ever so slightly. With one quick breath, Lance dives in and slurps directly from the bowl.
Keith watches wearily, his own spoon only halfway to his mouth. I guess he likes it?
“Oh my gawd Keef thith ith amathing.” Lance continues to shovel more and more of the soup, impatiently scooping seconds into his empty bowl.
“I’m glad you enjoy it.” Keith allows himself a little smile before finally digging in with a happy heart and soon to be happy tummy.
“Do you always cook that well?” The two had shifted over to the couch with Digby in Lance’s lap and crutches forgotten on the coffee table along with their cold mugs of tea.
“Not really… Honestly, chicken noodle soup is pretty much the only thing I can cook.” Keith’s eyes dance between Digby, Lance, and the mirror wall opposite them. Keith notices a tiny pile of fabric in the corner attached to a string and wonders if Lance had rigged up a curtain to cover up the reflection. Keith was tempted to get up and cover it himself. He already knows how easily he blushes, he doesn’t need to see it.
“Lies! There’s no way you can cook something THAT good and strike out on everything else.” Lance’s right arm rests comfortably on the couch just behind Keith’s head, his other preoccupied with petting Digby.
“You wanna bet?” Keith finally makes direct eye contact with Lance, feeling the icy challenge in the stare.
“Fine- next week, cook off. My place.”
Keith sputters momentarily, surprised at how quickly Lance had picked up the opportunity to have Keith over again. Keith is forced to take a moment to breathe before working up an equivalent stare.
Sending back just as much heat as he had received in ice, Keith winks at Lance. “You’re on.”
And if either one noticed the distance closing between them during their exchange then they didn’t say anything. And if Keith noticed when Lance’s arm fell onto his shoulders, well he didn’t say anything either. And if either of them noticed when two o’clock rolled around…well, neither of them made a peep.
